


Darkness

by KitsuneArashi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Birthdays, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hope, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, pre slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 02:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10504203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsuneArashi/pseuds/KitsuneArashi
Summary: Dean hates birthdays because no one really cares that he was even born, and his birthday is the one day that everyone proves that, every single year.





	

Dean hated birthdays. Well, that was a lie, Dean hated his own birthday. Every year held promise of a good day, and every year he was left alone and disappointed with his friends and what remained of his family promising to do better next year. And, like a fool, every year Dean believed them, had hope that next year, next year will be better. It never was.

Dean’s family was never really there for him, so it made sense that his childhood birthdays didn’t hold much joy. An absent, neglectful father with issues with substance abuse never really had the time or inclination to throw Dean a party or make sure he had a good day.    
  
And the times he tried to throw his own party, other parents didn’t really want their kids around the poverty and anger issues that leeched from the Winchester home.    
  
When Dean went to live with his uncle Bobby, things got a little better. The sting of disappointment was less each year as the people who loved him remembered his birthday, as he got gifts and parties like he saw other people having, like he’d ensured that his little brother, Sammy, had gotten each year. Even so, something always felt like it was missing, like some dark growth in his chest grew a little bigger, a little darker, every year. It felt like loneliness and homesickness and Dean worked hard to keep it smothered, but every year it grew a little more.

The day before Dean’s 25th birthday he got a text message from his long term girlfriend, Lisa. She wasn’t coming to see him, in fact, she was breaking up with him. She wished him a happy birthday and that was it. Dean died a little inside and threw his phone at the wall, shattering the fragile screen, spider web cracks covered the screen like it was a physical manifestation of his heart, pain lancing through his chest and feeding the darkness inside him.    
  
Dean rang in his birthday alone and with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.   
  
Dean threw himself a party for his 26th birthday, invited his friends to come along and they all got drunk together, when midnight clicked over every one was too drunk to realise and a single text message reading “Happy birthday Dean” from Sammy was the only acknowledgement that he birthday had passed at all. The dark, painful growth in his chest spread.   
  
Dean spent his 27th birthday alone, he’d wanted to invite people to do something but everyone had claimed that they were busy and unable to attend, so he didn’t bother. He bought himself a cake and a bottle of whiskey and finished both, alone as he watched people wishing him a great day on social media, people he had invited to spend the time with him saying how much they hope he had a great time for his birthday, knowing full well that he was spending it alone because they had something more important to do. The ache of loneliness and homesickness grew darker, bitterness and self loathing took root and the darkness spread.

Dean’s 28th birthday was almost an exact repeat of his 25th, except this time there was no message, Benny just blocked his number, blocked him on social media and suddenly, just like that, Dean was single for his birthday. He spent his birthday weeping, Sammy sent him a giftcard.

Dean’s 29th birthday he had a games night, invited all his friends who promised they’d attend, Charlie came, with her girlfriend who Dean hadn’t met before. Sammy came and brought Dean whiskey. And Garth came, all smiles and wide eyed innocence as they spent the night laughing and playing Cards Against Humanity. Dean felt like maybe this was how it should be, sure only a handful of the people who said they’d come actually showed up, but that’s all he needed, a few close friends, and Sammy, to be there, to show that they were happy he was born. The darkness faded and shrank and Dean felt hopeful.   
  
Dean’s 30th birthday slipped by with barely a fuss, Charlie had had a messy break up and left town, Sammy had moved back to California and no one else had replied to his request of people to come celebrate with him. The loneliness grew and the bitter homesickness writhed under his skin. Dean was in bed before the clock ticked over to midnight, he refused to check his social media for 3 days.    
  
Dean’s 31st birthday he was feeling hopeful, Charlie mentioned maybe coming down to see him and his best friend, Amara, had outright said that she’d be there, maybe even bake him a cake. He planned to go out the weekend before with Bela for drinks, invited Amara along as well, Amara made her excuses and Dean let it go, he’d see her in three days anyway since she promised she’d be there for his actual birthday, he believed her.   
  
Dean spent his birthday trying not to cry. He watched as people filled his facebook wall with messages of love and well wishes, but no one called. He watched as Amara spent her day talking shit with her other friends online, but never once did she wish him a happy birthday, or even message him at all. The aching loneliness and homesickness in his chest swirled and merged with the bitterness and self loathing, tossing and boiling under his skin, finally blending together into a wave of bloody agony that crashed over him and left him gasping.

At 5pm on Dean’s 31st birthday he broke down in his car and sobbed, he’d had so much hope that he wouldn’t spend the day alone, Amara’s promises mocked him, Amara’s silly posts with her other friends stung like salt in the wound when she didn’t even remember his birthday at all. Dean sank into the leather seats of the Impala and covered his face, a pathetic whimper escaping his lips.   
  
A knock on the window startled him and he quickly wiped his face, reaching over to open the door so he could step out. He looked up and was met with concerned blue eyes.    
  
“Are you alright?” A deep voice asked softly, genuine worry audible as the man took in his dishevelled appearance.    
  
The sudden concern, from a stranger no less, was what did him in, and for the second time that day, Dean flopped down on the seat of the Impala and sobbed.    
  
Concern turned to alarm and the other man dropped down to his knees beside the open door, reaching out a tentative hand to place gently on Dean’s shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?” the blue eyed stranger asked quietly.   
  
And just like that Dean was babbling, choking up his anger and his betrayal, the bitterness and heartache was coming up and forming words, taking a life of their own as Dean spat out years worth of loneliness and self loathing, hatred of his birthday taking shape and the darkness seeping out of him like pus from a wound. The stranger gently rubbed his back as he talked, and when Dean was finished, left sitting in the driver’s seat of the Impala feeling empty and wrung out, the stranger sat back and met his eye.   
  
“Happy birthday,” he said softly, reaching down to lay his hand over Dean’s clenched fist. Dean slowly relaxed under the contact, breathing heavily and feeling slightly embarrassed having just dumped his whole, sorry history on this poor stranger.  “I’m Castiel, and I’d like to take you to dinner.”   
  
Dean started and met Castiel’s even gaze, heart thudding in his chest as he realised the other man was serious. “I’m Dean,” he managed, feeling trapped in the intensity of Castiel’s eyes, “and I’d like that.”   
  
Castiel smiled and it lit up his entire face, releasing Dean’s hand and pulling himself to a standing position, “Walk with me?” He asked, reaching his hand back down for Dean to take.   
  
Dean took it and allowed Castiel to lift him back up, turning to lock the Impala as Castiel described the place that they were going to, Dean was wasn’t sure how he was feeling when he turned back around, but Castiel’s smile and outstretched hand were enough to make him feel light and warm.   
  
As they walked down the street and Castiel told him that the place they were going to also did cakes, and that Dean was definitely getting a birthday cake, Dean felt the last wisps of darkness letting go and fading away, the sting in his chest was gone, lanced and left to heal, and there, through it all, was Castiel with his talk of cake and bees already soothing the ache left behind like a balm.    
  
_ Maybe birthdays aren’t so bad _ ...


End file.
